"After all," he submitted, "madame again has her emeralds . . ."
"And you to thank—I know. But still—!"
"And she retains that intangible something which is worth nothing till it is lost, I refer to her—as we absurdly say—good name."
"Haven't I proved my appreciation by letting you lie like a . . ."
Folly faltered, at loss for a figure, and Lanyard gravely suggested: "Like—I trust very truly—a gentleman."
"Well!" The efforts failed that she had been making to re-establish that poise of impartiality which he had already shaken, she twinkled outright. "And I loved you for it and lied like a baggage in your support. Still, I think you owe me something more . . ."
"The explanation which I am as ready to make as you are to hear it, but a strange story—"
"I can imagine."
"Forgive me if I doubt that . . . A story so strange it will hardly seem credible without the testimony of one little likely to be suspected of bias in my favour, I mean Monsieur Morphew—"
"Morphew!"